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 He sat in front of the computer’s blank screen, a blank slate waiting to be filled with new worlds that would be populated by vibrant creatures who were conjured out of obscurity. Once the story has been perfectly crafted and completed, it would be devoured by a dedicated global readership. 

A sound of bitter laughter echoed behind him. Yes, she was still there, silently mocking his inability to create. Although he had been writing for years, and had never been lost for ideas, something had gone horribly wrong. His inspiration pool was empty of ideas and his familiar friends, those carefully chosen and well placed words, no longer served their purpose.
“Why stay if you’re not interested in helping me? Aren’t there countless writers out there you could bestow your precious gifts upon?” he muttered bitterly.
She shifted quickly away to hover lazily in the corner of the room, with one eye on the closed door.
“Yes, I could do that, but it’s fun watching you sweat. But then again, maybe I’ve run dry as well,” she snapped. “I’ve played my part in the creative game longer than you’ve been alive.”
“Fine, leave then!” He shouted.
“I will,” she retorted. “But I just want to see you write something on your own before I go. Just once.”
He sighed. “Alright. I don’t really need you, anyway. I’m a veteran author! My reputation is sealed as a world-class literary wordsmith. Other writers seek my help on how to cure writer’s block.”
He sat up straight and flexed his hands, and then started typing madly, his fingers skimming back and forth across the keyboard. When he had finished he leaned forward and stared at the screen. The whole page was full of gibberish.
“Damn!” he shouted. He stood up and shoved the chair forward and it slammed against the table.
She fluttered backward in surprise. “Temper, temper.”
He spun around.
“I’ve got nothing!” He howled, and threw his arms out wide.
She raised her eyebrows and folded her arms. “That’s right, you’re nothing without me.” 
“Help me,” he pleaded.
She floated towards the door. He watched her as the door flew open. ‘Nah, I think it’s time for a well-earned holiday.” She looked over her shoulder at him.
He looked dazed for a moment and then his eyes flashed.
She knew that look.
“How about this? A story about a creative muse who goes on a holiday. Now that’s an interesting idea, non-fiction, I reckon.”
She scowled. “What! I don’t think so.”
He pulled the chair out and sat back down. “Yes! Yes, I could make something out of that.”
She floated a little closer. “No, you can’t.”
He started typing. “The muse who took a holiday.” He paused. “Now where would a muse go for a holiday…?” He grinned manically.
She moved back to her routine position, just over his right shoulder.
He smiled. “I knew you’d be back. So where do we go from here?” 

Image:

Fantasy/Night/Blue
Larisa-K.

Pixabay.com

 For those lovers of transgressed or refreshed fairy tales, here is a short story, a modern retelling of Cinderella. 

It was my work Christmas party, and I sat alone, invisible, watching everyone laugh and talk around me. The only reason I was at the party was due to my serial hopes that I’d be noticed by a certain tall, blonde man with sapphire-blue eyes, a bronzed and broad shouldered god who set my blood pressure to overdrive. Of course he was way out of my league: I was petite with frizzy brown hair, and brown eyes that were hidden behind glasses. And I was painfully shy. It seemed as if I was destined to remain romantically challenged forever. I had asked myself so many times why I had allowed myself to live in this fantasy world, where I was Cinderella and my inexperienced heart was set on a unattainable prince.

David was a hit with all the women in the office, and he was always being romantically linked with someone different each week. But still my desiccated heart insisted on the belief that one day he would choose me: the unfashionable and awkward filing girl. This impossibility was also enhanced by the fact that I couldn’t speak to my dream man in more than just a few monosyllables, whenever we passed each other in the hallway. But the waking dream of our mystical connection continued to haunt my every step.

With my eyes glued to the door, I hoped to catch a glimpse of the man who had unknowingly stolen my heart. An hour had passed and still David hadn’t materialized. Maybe he wasn’t a fan of Christmas work parties either. I was feeling quite foolish with a half empty plate balanced on my knee and an empty plastic cup in my hand, while the raucous crowd of party-goers who were getting ready for Karaoke surrounded me buzzing excitedly like a hive of bees.

But just like it had always transpired in my dream, the crowd suddenly parted, and the ‘man with the sapphire-blue eyes’ towered over me with a brooding expression.
“Hello,” he said, tentatively.
My mind was screaming at me to say something – anything – just speak!!!
With a deep breath I said “Hi!” trying to sound nonchalant, but I dropped my plate and the remains of my lunch crashed onto the carpet.
Thankfully he hadn’t noticed as he was looking with an amused expression at some of the staff members who were now singing in high pitched voices, I Wanna Know What Love Is by Foreigner.
He glanced down at me. “Not a fan of Karaoke then?” he asked.
“No.” I shook my head.
He sat down next to me. “Hi, my name’s David, what’s yours?”
I blushed bright red. “Mia,” I replied softly. I looked up at him briefly. His eyes were darting around the room. A stab of misery pierced my heart and tears began to cloud my vision. He was only sitting here until he found someone more interesting than me to talk to. I was such a fool. Clutching my empty cup in my hands, I started to get up.
He reached out and touched my arm. “Leaving already? Why don’t you keep me company? I’m not fan of parties, but this is a good excuse to get away from work.”
“OK,” I said. I couldn’t think of anything more to say.
He was looking directly at me now. “So, you’ve worked here a while then?”
I nodded. “I’m a temp.”
“Oh really, so which agency are you with?”
Such banal chatter was another warning in my heart.

I was about to reply when a shadow was cast over our very awkward tête-à-tête A woman had moved quickly to sit on the other side of David. My chest constricted: it was Rae; the office goddess. The rumor mill of the office was always kept running with constant gossip about David and Rae. Apparently it had been love at first sight, and they had dated a few times, but there was no consensus on whether they were still together. I glanced over at Rae, trying to act like her presence didn’t bother me. Her vivid green eyes were fixed on me, and her left hand was on David’s right knee, like she was indicating her sole possession rights. I heard him sigh and I assumed that it was a sigh of pleasure, but his eyes shifted briefly to mine, and just for a second I thought I saw a flash in those blue eyes. A thrill rippled through my heart. Maybe it was possible that I had a little magic of my own and could still elicit a romantic response, frizzy brown hair, glasses and all.

Rae was chatting away about the weekend and how they could take her father’s yacht out on the harbor. I thought it was best to leave them alone, so I got up to leave once more, but David grabbed my hand. “Where are you going?” His mesmerizing eyes had a kind of imploring look.
I could feel Rae’s eyes boring into me as I stood there unsure: should I flee to the safety of my desk or stay and fight. I chose the latter and sat back down.
David shifted in his seat to look at me, his back turned towards Rae. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for ages, but I was always too nervous, or I never had the right opportunity.” “

“Me too,” I replied in a small voice. Great! He probably thinks I’m an idiot.

Before either of us could say another word, Rae jumped up and stood directly in front of David. I could see that she had made a special effort for the party, instead of wearing her normal office garb, black skirt, matching black jacket, a white business-style blouse and medium heeled black shoes, and her fiery red hair in a elegant chignon, she wore a bright green dress that was so tight I wondered how she could walk and her plunging neckline left nothing to the imagination. Her dark green satin heels were staggeringly high. I knew she caught the train to work, and images of her teetering along the platform as she raced to catch the train, and then catching her heel and pitching forward into a packed carriage of startled men, had me almost in giggles. In reality she had probably got changed into the gaudy party dress and shoes at work. But I enjoyed my scenario better.

As if she could read my thoughts she glared down at me contemptuously. “What are you smirking about?” she snapped.
I shrunk back into my seat. “Nothing really. I was just thinking of something funny,” I muttered.
Her eyes narrowed, but her attention was quickly directed back to her prey. “Darling, shall I get us a drink?” Her tone was now seductive and smooth.
David’s response not only surprised me but Rae as well.
He ignored her and leaned towards me. “Why don’t we get out of here and grab a coffee?”
The sensation of his warm breath on my cheek sent tingles along the surface of my skin. The sounds of the party faded away.
I whispered back, “I would love to!”

The velvet thickness of the night was ripped wide as his silver grey BMW i8 roared up the tree-covered lane that led to the cabin. She stood in the shadows of the porch, excited, her breath coming faster then her aroused heartbeats. Yes, she was ready to forgive everything. All she wanted was to be with him .....a previously unattainable corporate high-flyer who had turned out to be her prince.  

As she waited, aching for their first kiss, it seemed like an eternity for him to come to her, and so she cast her mind cast back over the the events that brought them to this night. As long as she could remember, her adult life had been filled with the drudgery of menial  work, cleaning toilets at different offices, emptying worker's trash bins, scrubbing the floors and vacuuming the carpets.  Each day passed uneventfully, and most of her work took place after all of the office workers had gone home.  Occasionally, some of them would work overtime, but they never took any notice of her, either they sat glued to their seats, staring at their computer screens, or chatted to one another about all the things they had planned to do on their weekends, clubbing, getting drunk at the local pub, planning children's parties. and organising weddings - .this last celebration would make her wither inside.  No such delights for her to dwell upon.  Her nights were spent eating lonely midnight meals, either a take-away or a microwavable meal, and her weekends, she would either visit the local shops and gaze longingly at the beautiful clothes that she could never afford on her meagre salary and what social occasion would she able to wear them to anyway – the very thought of going to a noisy night club and mixing with strangers terrified her.  The highlight of her week was sometimes a midnight tipple in her tiny garden, where she would sip her port and gaze up at the night sky, wondering how her life had brought  her to this moment, an unattractive, single, 30-something woman, who cleaned up other people's rubbish and excrement, and then destined to come home to a silent house, with not even a cat or a dog to keep her company.     

But, the thought of that very singular, amazing Night that had changed everything, which had transformed her from a dowdy cleaning lady into a desirable woman, had given her something worthwhile to live for.  Her heart skipped at the though of him, and she giggled, who would have thought that they would make an item, the most unlikely couple.  She laughed out loud when she remembered the gossip that she had overheard about the mysterious woman who had captured his heart.  She cleaned and scrubbed and vacuumed with such a passion that was not only fuelled by the remembrance of his first attentions to her, but by the frustrated gabble of the office workers as they tried to work out who this “special woman” was.  If they only knew it was her, the invisible cleaning lady.     

This is how their affair had begun. He had worked back late one night, which was quite an unusual occurrence, as he was the bosses privileged, arrogant son. A woman could not help but notice him, he was tall and muscular, with dark brown wavy hair and green eyes, and his signature, he always wore a leaf green shirt on a Friday, when he came into the office to have a meeting with his father, but they always finished their meeting by 4 pm.  One Friday night, around 6 pm, she had passed his father's and was shocked to see his son sitting at the computer.  He had glanced over at her as she stood in the doorway, and asked her to please empty his waste paper basket, and could she make him a coffee?     
  
He had been apologetic about this last request, about the coffee, which had surprised her, especially after he was rumoured to be such an arrogant bastard. He had gazed into her eyes, and she had thought she had seen a brief flicker in those shimmering green depths, but she quickly dismissed that silly thought.   But she could not help but be smitten as soon as their eyes had met and she would do anything for him, and so it was that their brief affair had begun.  At first she had only seen him on Friday nights, every few weeks, but after they had started chatting, well, he had started it really, as she was so painfully shy, and her reticence to make conversation was also compounded by the fact that he was the son of the CEO of the company and she was just a humble cleaning lady.  
  
It didn't seem to bother him what she did for a living, or how she was dressed, in a light grey uniform, which consisted of a shapeless shirt and pants, and with her employer's logo emblazoned on her right shirt pocket. They chatted, while she pretended to be absorbed in her cleaning tasks in his office, when she was really thrilled by his mellow voice. Sometimes, when she glanced up at his handsome face, she couldn't help but wonder how he would react if he saw what her body actually looked like under that horrible cleaning uniform that defined her as a blue-collar worker.  She possessed a trim figure with exquisite curves and her hair that was normally pulled back in an untidy ponytail was long and luscious, a rich auburn colour with subtle red highlights.  No, she must not let her mind wander to those illicit thoughts right now, besides, he was talking about important business intrigues, and he would never see her that way, or could he?.  But he had come to see her that way, as a desirable woman, who had flowing scented auburn hair that one could bury their face in, and creamy skin.. These had been some of his exact words that he had whispered into her ear.  Maybe these treasured moments where just fanciful dreams, and had all that had taken place on those mystical friday nights had just been a meeting of the minds, a mutual joining of their consciousness.  She had had no idea of business matters, but she would hang on his every word, and also, after work, she started to read up on the internet all about the company so that she would be able to converse more intelligently with him.  They would talk for hours, past the time she was supposed to finish work, and one day he had driven her home and had kissed her for the very first time.  After that every morning was a blessed day, she cleaned with a vigour she never thought possible.  Her appearance had been transformed, she had started to wear make-up and had had her uniform altered to show off her curves.  Still the late-night workers at the office did not give her a second glance – the grey uniform and her cleaning duties continued to define her, but she didn't care, as long as his eyes were on her, the whole world could fade away.     

Poetry has been an integral part of my life. As I was growing up, my mother would create humorous rhyming poems for my sister and I. Many of her poems would revolve around our names and integrate the vibrant imagery and characteristics of Australian animals and birds.

For example:

‘Dinky Di’ lived in the sky

She was a Rosella parrot

She talked all day and talked all night

And loved to eat Dad’s carrots.

In my maturing years, I embarked on a song-writing journey, which has helped to develop my lyrical composition and the use of full and part rhymes. I am still a fan of the traditional rhyming structure, but in compiling this portfolio, I experimented with styles that I am not overly familiar with such as: the sonnet, and other ‘open forms’, that defy conventional poetic expectations.  

Although there are some poems in this portfolio that utilize the traditional style of rhyme, there are others that strongly defy this form.

I have also drawn upon the art of the image to create word pictures that aim to draw the reader into my perspective on different parts of life and the seasons and experiences. 

Poems such as Trafficked aim to highlight social justice issues such as human trafficking.

Free-Fall, and Trafficked use a combination of isometric, heterometric and quasi-stanzaic stanzas (Strand & Boland 2000, p 136) to that create a visual picture, and movement. 

 ‘Closure’ uses extreme enjambment to also create a sense of movement and staccato emotions.

In my preparation and creation of this poetry collection, I have come to the understanding, that the many varied “verse forms [on offer] do not define poetic form: they simple express it” (Strand & Boland 2000, p. 3).

REFERENCE:

Strand, Mark & Boland, Eavan 2000, The Making of a Poem, A Norton Anthology of Poetic Forms, The Stanza, W. W. Norton & Company, New York, London, pp. 136-138.